


Relief and Shelter

by Upupanyway



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, M/M, PWP, also everyone should wash their hands more, as in always discuss things beforehand, but actually not too kinky, everyone should just work on communication, frank and frank at it again, petty crime (frank breaks in), serious crime (he also kills people but it's not a part of this story)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20556341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upupanyway/pseuds/Upupanyway
Summary: Frank gets lonely. Foggy's a good host.





	Relief and Shelter

The shape of his jaw was something else. That gonial angle was less of a handsome curve and more of a sheet of steel cut into jagged and regular shapes. It was deadly as it set, as it moved, as it slacked.

Foggy marvelled at it as he watched it chew the too-tough leftover steak from his fridge.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" Foggy asked him, light as he could despite the growing concern that Foggy might have to do something illegal that night.

Frank was wearing a tight little black ensemble. A strained black shirt sheered at his pecs and Foggy could practically count his chest hairs. His cargo pants accentuated every angle of his pelvic area. The slope of his muscular ass, the jutting iliac bone, the juncture of his hip and femoral head. And, of course, whatever situation was happening in the crotch with all those strappy holsters involved.

"The door was open," Frank answered simply, tearing through more meat.

"The lock was  _ broken _ ," Foggy countered like a whip, setting his bag down. "As in, you broke my lock again," he accused. Not breaking eye contact, Foggy walked over to a cabinet in the living room, picked up a brand-new, still-packaged door lock and placed it on his tiny bar table, right between Frank and himself.

"I have to let the building know every time I change it, you know. They're starting to think I'm a paranoid lunatic."

Frank didn't respond. He kept chewing at the steak, not moving from his spot by the fridge.

When he finished, he moved to wipe his hand on his pants.

"Frank, you're disgusting," Foggy chided, watching him in awe. Foggy wasn’t exactly pristine, but there was  _ sauce _ on Frank’s hands. There are very few people who would eat a slab of meat like that with their bare hands and Foggy had the luck to find the one person on this side of Manhattan to do it without hesitation.

Sufficiently shamed, Frank washed his hands at the sink, using dish soap for some lather.

"Happy now, counselor?" He grumbled as he neglected to dry off in any sensible capacity. Instead, he shook his hands in the air as he turned towards Foggy, dripping water everywhere.

"No. But that’s not the main issue. Why are you here?"

Frank scowled. "I missed you," he said as he picked up the new lock and stared at it from at least five different angles. Even with instructions literally written on the box, he seemed confused. Frank was very good at destroying a great plethora of things. Not very good at fixing them. He set the package back down. Foggy frowned at him meaningfully.

Then, sighing, Foggy picked up the lock and a screwdriver from his toolbox and got to work.

"I'm serious, though. Did you need something?" Foggy asked as he started unscrewing.

"No."

"Something new happen?" 

"My dog died."

Foggy was taken aback. It was one of those real world revelatory moments. Frank Castle, the Punisher, who loved his dog. Frank, who left a trail of bloody cadavers in his wake. Frank, who lived off cured meats and fast food. Frank, with an arsenal in his trunk. Frank, just another guy who loved his fucking dog.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that," Foggy said, faltering at the genuine sorrow in Frank’s voice.

"And Micro left,” he added, smaller this time, but no less gruff. Ah, yes. There it was. Now, Foggy had never really met this Lieberman guy, but considering they had partnered for at least a little bit, and knowing that Frank didn’t just kill him at the end of it was pretty telling. Foggy liked to think the other man deserved some friends in his life, maybe to ground him. Foggy was also fucking terrified of him, so he wasn't volunteering.

“Oh, Frank,” Foggy sighed in sympathy, because he could afford some of that, at least. He fit the new lock into the now vacant hole.

“It’s nothing new,” Castle rasped, guttural and bitter like the rest of him. “I’m alone in this war. That’s how it’ll always end up being.”

Foggy nodded at that, the byronic mania of these hero types was just too much sometimes. Why couldn't they be more like Spider-Man? “Bleak,” Foggy commented. Everyone around him could use some therapy and a long nap. “So you’re lonely?” he extrapolated.

Frank grunted, some regressive trait rooted deep in the DNA of the first  _ erectus _ to discover what vocal chords were for. It made about as much sense. Foggy nodded in understanding and tested his new lock with one of the keys in the package. When he was satisfied and the front fucking door was finally properly locked, he stole a glance his visitor’s miserable form as it absorbed all of the cheer in his apartment. And he had cute animal wall art.

Frank leaned against Foggy’s counter, watching him back. Sighing, Foggy walked up to meet him. Carefully, he set the old lock cylinder, now a useless hunk of metal, between them on the bar. A buffer.

“I can’t give you what you don’t ask for,” Foggy told him plainly, lacing his black-greased fingers together like an intervention.

Frank stared at him. Then, almost shyly, he looked away, fiddling with the piece of hardware between them.

“Jesus Christ, man, I can’t read your mind!” Foggy snapped, moving away to go wash his hands. He had put hand soap in a delicate glass dispenser, shaped like a frog. He was very fond of it. He felt a little bad for treating it aggressively as Frank continued his silence.

“Nelson, look at me,” Frank ordered, looping a finger into one of Foggy’s belt loops. Surprised, Foggy whipped his head back to find Frank staring at him intently. He lost himself in those eyes momentarily, and the scene registered in fragments. The glass frog looked on judgmentally. Frank’s eyes skirting Foggy’s lips. Frank’s soft breath on his cheeks. Strong, muscular arms around him. Something hard and metal scraping against his thigh.

That last one jolted Foggy. “Is that a gun?”

“I’m happy to see you,” Frank deadpanned, grazing his teeth along Foggy’s neck. Lighter than Foggy would have expected. He shivered.

“Can we put the guns away first?” The request exited his mouth too nervous for the mood Frank was trying to set. Foggy didn’t know what to make of it.

Frank’s mouth never left Foggy’s skin as he undid all his straps with militaristic, practiced ease. The equipment landed in clunky rivulets onto Foggy’s beautiful hardwood floor. It wasn’t  _ much _ better now that the weapons weren't on Frank's person, but it was definitely not worse.

“We should still talk about this,” Foggy said as Frank tried to shut him up with a kiss. Foggy turned his head at it. “Am I rebound? Is this a grief fuck? What’s going on here?”

“Nelson, I swear to God-”

“I have morals, too, Castle. Keep it in your pants for three more minutes so we’re on the same page,” Foggy pleaded. He extricated himself from the other man and sat down on his sofa, patting the space beside him when he settled.

Obediently, Frank followed.

“So why me? Why now?” Foggy asked.

Frank looked at him with a tight expression, a showdown of whether real words were going to exit that pretty mouth.

“Because I like you enough and I trust that this won't get complicated," Frank blurted out, finally. "Because it's been a month since I last talked to somebody, okay?"

"So you want some contact?" Foggy asked, making sense of the situation.

"Are we doing this or what?" Frank snapped, grabbing Foggy's shirt and pulling them together.

"I mean, we could cuddle or something instead. There are other forms of intimacy-"

Lips kept assaulting him. They captured his mouth, his jaw, his neck.

"Alright, I guess we're doing this, then," Foggy resigned, breathless. 

"You talk too much."

"Noted." Then, he yelped as Frank yanked his shirt open, buttons flying all around his apartment. It was a nice shirt, too.

Frank was a busy man, a diligent man. He nipped and sucked and bit at every inch of skin he could reach. He was systematic about it, high on the feeling of flesh and the destructive need to mark it. His eyes were focused when they were open, hazy from a feral sort of lust. Even as he hardened in his slacks, Foggy could recognize this certainly wasn't a healthy outlet. Foggy made a mental note to talk about it later. Or refer him to an actual therapist.

But Foggy wasn't perfect, either, and he was being presented with an interesting opportunity, at the very least. If he moaned a little at Frank's tongue on his nipple, if he didn't stop those wandering hands from finding his belt, well, he was only human.

Panting, deep in a haze of saliva and skin and salacious intent, Foggy found the willpower to pull Frank away. "I don't know if grief is the best reason to be doing this." Foggy said between them.

"How 'bout 'cause I want to?" Frank asked, grinding their dicks together from between the layers of fabric. "I've been deep in the goddamn war for months. I just need someone to touch. You good with that, Nelson? Or are you gonna bitch about how we're not fucking by candlelight on a rose petal bed?" Frank sat up expectantly, staring at Foggy from all the way over on the other side of the couch. 

Foggy, collecting his bearings, stood up and braved that chasm between them, kissing Frank gently when he got there. He dragged him to the bedroom with careful hands. And when they landed in bed together, Foggy hugged him like that was the forbidden act that would destroy him.

Frank, despite his demeanour, melted into the embrace and lingered there for some silent seconds.

It became something softer after that, when Frank finally made the move to kiss Foggy again. Caressing hands, lingering breath, gazing eyes. Languid bodies wrapping around each other endlessly.

"This okay?" Foggy asked as he peeled off Frank's shirt.

"Yeah."

Slowly, Foggy grazed his fingers over all the ugly scarring there. "Wow," he gasped. He knew what to expect, he just didn't know what he would see, exactly.

"Hey," Frank called from his reverie. "Are we still doing this or what?" Frank undid his fly in a decisive motion and shuffled out of his pants, urging Foggy to do the same.

He did, but he couldn't take his eyes off of all the skin in front of him. He didn't say anything about it, though.

When they were naked, Foggy dragged him closer to kiss him again, softly as he could, though it heated quickly after that.

Foggy didn't mark him, would never think to be any sort of violent in moments like this, but he let the other man take what he needed. He let Frank bite him, slap him, scratch at him as worked himself hard on Foggy's leg.

"Hey, hey, hey," he hushed as Frank reached for his cock, hands cupping Frank's face. "Not too fast, okay? We have all night, alright?"

Frank just batted his hands away and shifted to straddle the other man. "I'm not here for this emotional shit, Nelson. I'm gonna hop on your dick and leave."

"Then I'm going to make sure you prepare beforehand," Foggy countered, toppling the pair of them over to find the lube at his bedside.

"You're a stubborn bastard, you know that?" Frank shot back, though there wasn't any threat to his voice.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Frank."

"C'mon, Nelson, slap me around a little," he tempted, slapping his own abs performatively. "I'm a big boy, I can take a little manhandling." He said it gravelly and low, but he also smirked very handsomely and spread out on the bed.

"Nope," Foggy smiled definitively, working the gel into his fingers. "Just for that, I'm gonna kiss you while I finger you."

"Kid, listen to me-" he started, getting cut off with the promised kiss. Foggy gently coaxed a thumb into Frank.

"How's that?" He asked, massaging Frank open.

"Not bad." Frank melted into the pillows and caught Foggy's eyes for a moment before looking away.

"I want to blow you," Foggy said, matter-of-fact.

Frank choked on something, maybe laughter, maybe a moan. "All yours, hotshot."

"Thank you." Foggy shimmied down and took the lazy erection by his free hand. He kissed it playfully and Frank grabbed at his hair.

"Get to it, then."

"Patience is a virtue," Foggy laughed and kissed at Frank's balls. 

"I'm not Catholic."

But Foggy barreled through, licking and fondling Frank with his entire mouth, lapping at the precum like ambrosia. He replaced his thumb with his index and middle fingers and swallowed the dick right to his protesting throat. Frank gasped loudly, jerking himself upwards, yanking at Foggy’s hair.

Immediately, Foggy backed off, choking.

“Fuck me,” Frank begged, pulling Foggy up to him by the hair, crashing their mouths together. “I want you to fuck me like I killed your mother.”

Foggy slapped him. He didn’t lose his cool often, but there are some things you just don’t say with your dick out.

Frank moaned appreciatively. “Just like that, baby,” he sighed.

“Dude, what the fuck? Why would you say that?”

Frank hummed and stroked himself slowly.

"Frank, I'm not gonna use my dick to try to absolve you of your personal guilt," Foggy said, horrified. He reached for the towel at his bedside and wiped his hands.

"That ain't what this is," Frank explained darkly, reaching over to lay Foggy out on the bed. He took Foggy's hands and placed them at his waist. "I've been trying to tell you," he lined Foggy up and sunk down onto him in one decisive movement. "I like being fucked a certain way."

Finally, _ finally _ , Foggy took the hint when Frank started moving his massive thighs from around him, using his headboard as leverage. He dug his nails into that taught muscle, eliciting a throaty chuckle from Frank. He twitched at the vibration.

“Now, you’re getting it. Good job, kid,” Frank gasped, clearly having a good time, even as he took Foggy's entire length dry. And well, Foggy didn’t get a law degree because he hated validation. He scratched up Frank's thighs and squeezed his bouncing ass. And Frank, well, he  _ reacted _ .

"You really like that, huh?" Foggy observed, hips moving of their own accord.

Frank hummed, trying to go even faster.

"Hey, hey, hey." Foggy gulped at his own saliva, slapping Frank's thighs harshly. "I want you face down."

Without a word, Frank complied, presenting his glistening and eager ass. Foggy ran his hands over it and gave it a swift slap, letting Frank jerk forward and grind into the mattress.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Foggy marvelled.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“Alright, alright.” Foggy leaned down, squirting more lube onto their whole situation and rubbing his dick along the crack of Frank’s ass. He did this until Frank groaned in annoyance. Foggy watched as he reached behind himself and pressed Foggy into him.

“No more foreplay,” he ordered impatiently.

“I like foreplay,” Foggy whined, moving their hips together slowly. He leaned down to kiss Frank’s shoulder.

“Bite me.” 

Foggy did, hard. Frank cried out. “Fuck, that’s good. Harder.”

Foggy complied again and again, moving his hips faster, working up a rhythm.

“Good boy,” Frank assured breathkessly, clenching around him.

Foggy had always known he was a people pleaser, and he wanted Frank to enjoy himself. Hiking Frank’s knees up, he squeezed at those impossibly toned thighs. By the way Frank tensed and slacked and bucked his hips to meet Foggy’s, he was having a good time.

“Fuck, right there. Keep doing that right there,” he panted desperately. He grabbed blindly for one of Foggy’s hands, squeezed it tightly, and pulled it up to his face to suck on his fingers. The hot mouth and militant tongue, the light knock of powerful teeth, they all added another layer to all the glorious  _ sensations _ between their bodies.

“I’m close,” Foggy told him, finding a patch of skin on Frank to sink his teeth into.

Oh God, was he close. His toes were curling, his body was made of electricity.

Frank beat him to it with a long, low whimper and a curse. His ass pulsated around Foggy’s cock and Foggy slowed down to let Frank ride it out.

“No, keep going,” Frank said, sinking into the sheets, drifting into semi consciousness in the exerted afterglow.

“You sure, buddy? I’m more than fine finishing myself off.”

“You can go slow. I just want to feel you.”

It was permission. There wasn’t much to do from this angle except rut and grind and kiss at hands and shoulders and caress at hair. Foggy went slow and deep. It wasn’t very long before he was moaning, burying himself into Frank’s bear trap body for a few last, wrecked thrusts before pulling out and collapsing on top of the other spent body.

He almost fell asleep like that, but Frank mumbled into the pillow something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Foggy asked into Frank’s massive trapezius. 

“I said that was good,” Frank said again, turning his head towards Foggy, who preened. “You like that? Knowing how good you are?”

Foggy nodded into Frank’s skin and rolled off of the other body. There were a lot of fluids to deal with later.

“Huh, okay. Noted.”

“Stay?” Foggy requested as he stretched an arm over to hug his companion. He yawned.

“I’m not the best cuddler,” Frank informed him gruffly, shuffling closer anyway.

“It’s okay, just for a bit,” Foggy answered drifting further into sleep. “You can hit the shower before you leave. You smell like sex.”

“Yeah?” Frank smiled. Not a laugh. Never an outright laugh.

“Mmhm. You're gross,” Foggy stated simply. “Now shut the fuck up and sleep before I bite your dick off.”

Frank hummed in nonchalance.

“Wait, you’d probably like that. I’m gonna kiss you a whole buncha times," Foggy threatened.

Frank leaned in and kissed him sweetly anyways. Deeply, caringly, chastely. Almost romantic.

"Wouldn't mind that, either," Frank said, rolling around to be the inside of a very friendly, naked spoon.

Foggy huffed, though it was more of a chuckle. "Don't get soft on me, now."

"Noted."

-

Foggy woke up alone, obviously. He put his ruined sheets in the wash and showered before leaving for work. On his way out, he grabbed for the new key and fit it onto his ring, replacing the old one. Funny, he could have sworn there were two.

**Author's Note:**

> i think it's a fun dynamic when people are nice to each other about sex things. communication is important. setting boundaries is also important. pain can be fun, but always use lube and safewords. this is the worst thing i've written. (can u tell where my physical anthro training comes thru)
> 
> [ heres my tumbles ](https://artbymintcookies.tumblr.com/)


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